6 Months Later
by whatshouldwecallme
Summary: 6 months later Ginny is back in England choosing her university. What happens when Ginny goes to give Oliver his fair share of the money?
1. The Things We Do

Hello all! Basically this is how I imagine my two favourite teenagers colliding in the unlikely way that the best stories are made of. Story is rated M for later chapters. And this whole story is on the very beginning to a detailed plan of how I imagine Ginny's life to turn out. The beginning is the most important! Reviews are love xx

**Disclaimer: **I am not Maureen Johnson, okay?

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><p>She hadn't really thought about Oliver too much after the first few days of being home. At first she was itching to write, but had no clue what to say. She wanted him to write to her, but clearly he didn't know what to say either. So she had forced herself to forget. He was nice, and it was spontaneous and extremely unexpected. It should stay that way, a nice pleasant memory, she was fine with it staying that way.<p>

But when she was visiting for a few days for university tours she had found herself holding a cheque addressed to Oliver Davies for 55 000 pounds (his equal share of the money which she had split three ways, standing in front of the building where he worked. She knew in her gut this was a bad idea. It had been seven months. They hadn't said a word to each other since their last meeting, which had been possibly the best kiss she'd ever had.

Oh my god. She was standing on the opposite side of the cobblestoned street staring up at Elephant. She found herself walking right through the door, panicking just a bit already.

Inside there were a few people sitting in the booths and chairs, and only two staff she could see. There was a waitress in the back walking around quickly and a pretty blonde girl sitting at the bar, looking around. She was _very_ pretty, and Ginny was suddenly _very _intimidated, though she wasn't quite sure why.

"What can I get yeh?" She asked with a high pitched, Scottish accent.

"Can you give this to Oliver?" She blurted. This was good; she wouldn't have to see him. The girl, named Beth according to her nametag looked quite surprised and raised her eyebrows.

"Oliver?" She repeated, "Of course. He's done work for the week, back in on Tuesday."

"That's fine. Just ... can you make sure he gets it? It's very important."

Beth took the envelope and examined it momentarily then looked up at Ginny with a cheeky grin, "I _knew_ that boy had to have some sort of secret life he hasn't told us about!" Ginny said nothing. "Who shall I tell him it's from?"

She debated whether or not to tell her. "Ginny,"

Beth nodded and squinted, "How do you know Oliver? If you don't mind me asking. I've never met any of his friends before."

She found herself shaking her head, "Oh, it's ... we ... I don' really know him very well."

Ginny ducked into a doorway and checked her wallet. She only had twenty pounds on her, no debit card, no nothing. The rain was pouring and there were no more trains to London because of something with the rails. They said it would be fixed the next day, and she wanted to believe that.

She was massively unprepared for the rain, she didn't have an umbrella and she didn't even have a sweater. She only had a cardigan on with a white tank-top with only a small design of colour in the middle – a white shirt! Of course. She closed her bag and yanked her cardigan together to cover her shirt which was completely soaked and showing the whole world her dark pink bra with white stripes, why hadn't she worn a white bra? Or at least a not so bright and obvious coloured one ... like skin coloured?

It was soon well after six o'clock and she had managed to keep sort of dry by heading into the Friary. She wondered if she could walk to the train station and sleep there, she had a ticket for today ... maybe they could give her a replacement. But that meant having to take a taxi, or walk. She wouldn't have found her way on foot anyway and she didn't have enough for a ride.

Ginny sat in a doorway, the rain tapering off just slightly and misting her. After weighing all her options, her mind clearly affected by the rain, she realized that she had no choice. She would have to go to Oliver's. Or ... she could go to the station and just sleep there. But she wouldn't have enough to buy a ticket if they wouldn't exchange hers.

Two hours later after having been refused a ticket at the station, she felt like crying. How could she have gotten into this mess? She supposed she'd just have to wait until tomorrow when she could use her debit card again.

Since the station was closed, the wary travellers were out in the rain. Ginny didn't know what to do. She decided to follow the signs for the high street, it was easier to get there than to get to the station.

It was still pouring. Her hair was stuck to her back, her clothes were completely soaked and she was shivering. She had dressed for the lovely warm day in jean shorts and a white tank-top with a black cardigan that didn't button up. It had been so warm earlier, and even the rain had been warm. But it was almost completely dark. This was a sign. She never should have come here. She had no choice now. It was Saturday, there was a chance nobody would even be home.

She hadn't spoken or heard from Oliver since she left in January. She had decided not to keep in contact, as that didn't seem to do any good with Keith. Not like Oliver was in any way the same as Keith, but Ginny didn't want to push it. They had had a wonderful last moment and that would be it.

She knocked on Oliver's door, feeling more embarrassed then ever. She could just sleep in a doorway. That would be fine. Nothing would happen. She should leave. Just as she was leaving the door opened. A very surprised looking Oliver was standing there wearing his khaki work pants that were just a bit too short and a zip-up hoodie. This was the first time she'd seen him in months, and likewise the first time he'd seen her. And she was a completely wet, shivering mess. There wasn't a cover on the stoop so she was still being rained on.

"Hi," She said, tilting her head sideways and seriouslywishing that she would have slept outside the train station. There was no need to come here.


	2. Bra's and Chit Chat

Hello all! This chapter is mostly them talking, so forgive, and I also know that Oliver is not in school for History like I say here, buuuut we can pretend.

**Disclaimer: **I am not Maureen Johnson, okay?

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><p><em>"Hi," She said, tilting her head sideways and seriouslywishing that she would have slept outside the train station. There was no need to come here.<em>

"Hello." He said, still processing what he was seeing, then a thought seemed to physically strike him, "Did you want to step in?"

She did. The house was quite small, like all older British homes were. There was a smell of something pasta-y coming from the kitchen and of clean laundry. And she was folding her arms covering her see-through shirt as much as she could, still shivering

"I'm really sorry," She said instantly, "To ... come here, at all. But the trains to London are down, the whole station is basically closed, they kicked me out ... I would have just stayed there all night, I have nine pounds," She took a much needed breath of air, "Can I ... can I just sleep on your couch, or something?"

Oliver was staring at her like he'd been hit in the head with a shovel. His expression was not stone walled as usual, he looked very surprised and not at all prepared. Then he started nodding, "Yes. Yes, of course. Did you want ... a towel or ..." He was disappeared behind the stairs and came out with a folded lemon yellow towel, "Or something ... to hang your clothes. We don't have a dryer at the moment."

Ginny found herself nodding and a relieved smile on her face and accepting the towel which she used to dry her legs and face.

"Right. Erm ..." She'd never seen him quite so ... not cool calm and collected. He came around the stairs again with a smaller yellow towel. "For your hair."

She took off her soaking wet strapped sandals while trying to cover her white shirt. The cardigan wasn't made to cover her chest, mostly just her arms so she was quite certain Oliver had noticed the soaking wet white fabric stuck to her stomach.

Once again he disappeared behind the stairs and came out a little longer than before holding what looked to be a pile of his clothes. "You can wear these," He offered and she nodded.

"Thanks."

"We only have one bathroom," he said and started up the stairs and she followed him, her wet feet would probably leave prints in the carpet. They were wooden but not creaky. Upstairs there was a tiny hallway painted the generic beige that all houses are, but they were covered in framed pictures. There were four brown doors. And Oliver opened one of the two that didn't have crafty signs on them. He darted in for a few seconds, then came out and held his arm out towards it

The bathroom was clean, it was obviously newer then the rest of the house. There were not a lot of toiletries that she could see. She dried herself off and then sat on the edge of the bath, wrapped in one and totally naked, looking at the clothes. _His_ clothes. There was a pair of running shorts and a white tee-shirt. There was a hooded sweater too. Ginny felt her clothes, which were all still sopping, they were sitting on the counter. Even her bra. She wondered if she could blow dry her underwear so she could wear it.

She stood there for a good ten minutes wondering if she should. She decided to. She didn't want to sit in soaking wet underwear and leave butt prints wherever she sat. But she did it as fast as she could, and didn't even try her bra, as it was thicker and synthetic and wouldn't have helped.

She hung the wet towels over the shower rail and was standing in Oliver's clothes, which were huge on her. The shorts were elastic but they barely stayed up and she rolled them a few times so they didn't hang below her knees. She realised that if she wore the bra, there would be huge wet marks over her boobs and she would also be wearing a wet bra all night.

She took a calming breath and put the white shirt on with no bra and then checked to see if it was obvious she wasn't wearing one. It wasn't, but she put on the hoodie anyway. She had the bundle of wet clothes in her hands as she nervously opened the door. What if Oliver's mum saw her?

She wished she could sit in the bathroom all night and not have to talk to him.

Downstairs Oliver was standing in the kitchen cutting some sort of pasta dish. He didn't notice her until the floor underneath her creaked loudly. He looked at her and noticed the pile of wet clothes in her hands. It wasn't a big pile, the items were not particularly large or heavy and her bra was at the bottom so he couldn't see it.

"Right. We have a wire drier in the lounge," He told her, and they walked into the front room which had two little couches, a small television, lots of pictures and a whole wall full of books and shelves. He unfolded what appeared to be a single piece of white wire and it was suddenly a square-ish spider web of layers. She nodded with a smile, as he headed back to the kitchen, "Did you want some pasta?"

He had obviously prepared himself now, as he seemed much more like the old, I-have-everything-under-control Oliver.

"Uh sure. Thanks," She hung her shorts, which looked even shorter and smaller than she realised and her white shirt and cardigan. She put her bra in the very back corner of the weird little square wire jungle and tried as best she could to hide it.

The kitchen was very small but clean and the window let her know that it was still pouring unpleasantly and was now pitch black. He handed her a plate and her stomach growled, it smelled very good. There was a little two person wooden table that she sat at and Oliver sat down with his plate.

"So what brings you to England? And to Guildford?" He asked somewhat straightforwardly. But she expected no less. He was an up front, straight forward, no nonsense kind of guy. And she had of course just appeared on his doorstep, soaking wet and asking to stay after six months of nothing and only a week of knowing him before that. She would have been much more curious than he appeared to be.

Ginny was not totally prepared, but she answered, "University. I'm going to school here in October,"

Oliver raised his eyebrows, "Really? Whereabouts?"

"Surry or Greenwich, I got into both, I'm just going on tours." She also remembered Oliver hated lying. She didn't want to lie to him, just because she believed him.

He nodded approvingly, "Congratulations,"

"Thanks," She smiled and returned to eating her pasta quietly. "Where's your mum?" She asked ... though she wasn't sure why. It was a strangely friendly kind of question, but she couldn't stand the ten seconds of awkward silence.

"Visiting her sister, in Devon. She's gone the whole week—" Then Ginny jumped up.

"I have to call Richard," She said hurrying to her bag, hoping her phone wasn't wet. Thankfully it still worked. She reached into her bag for the little pamphlet on Guildford she had picked up and looked for the name of a hostel. There was only one. "Hi, it's Ginny. In Guildford. The trains to London are down, is it raining like crazy there? They said they'd be running tomorrow. I'm in a hostel. Hillside Lodge, it's really nice. Yep. It should be fun. Okay. Bye." She put the phone down and walked barefoot back to the kitchen where Oliver had put two glasses of water on the table.

"So," she said as she was said sitting down and observing the kitchen. "What are you doing for school?"

Oliver looked down, and she noticed that thing he did when he didn't want to talk about something. She felt like he should be reaching for a cigarette. He shrugged lightly, "I'll probably take this year off again. You can take three years off before they cut your admission." He explained.

Ginny couldn't help feel bad for him, this would have been his last year in school. He obviously was trying to hide the fact that he was not okay with this. She could imagine him silently working away, not saying a word, not letting anybody know how he felt.

"I might do an online course, or something." He added.

Then there was a long silence. Oliver was good with those, but this one felt a little like it shouldn't be so long. She took the time to look around. The kitchen had a few plants in it, and was clean. It was an old house, so it seemed not as sterile as new houses always do. There were quite a few pictures on the wall. And two cat food bowls that were half full.

When they were both finished, Ginny offered to wash the dishes, as they had no dishwasher. Oliver put the food in the fridge then stood behind her for a moment, as if unsure of what do to.

"Did you want to watch television? I'm afraid there isn't much else unless you like board games from the 40's." He offered. Ginny wondered what else there was to do in the tiny house when it was pouring rain.

She smiled brightly, "Sure. I've been trying to keep up on British shows, but it hasn't really been working."

He nodded and then went into the front room, eyeing her wet clothes and she felt her stomach flip. Yep. He had seen her bra. He knew she was wearing his clothes without a bra on. Great. What kind of person walked into the house of a person they hadn't seen in months, then takes off all their clothes and underwear? Only total creeps. She all of a sudden wished she had never came.

She was too embarrassed to sit with him or speak when her bra was sitting in the corner like a big giant elephant. But she forced herself to. She sat on the other couch and covered herself with a blanket.

"Anything ... particular you'd like watch?" He asked scrolling through the strange channel screen.

She watched as names of shows she didn't know went by. Then she saw Friends. Something she knew!

"I do like Friends." She told him, "But why do I feel like you don't usually watch comedies?"

He gave her an almost-smirk kind of look, in the way someone who hardly ever showed emotion would give.

"I do. Generally not American ones, but still ..." He flipped it on and she sighed. One of the earlier ones, the funnier ones. She was safe of un-comfortableness for the next hour. After a while, Ginny forgot where she was. She wanted to forget so she let herself complete get absorbed. She hadn't really sat down and watched television in a while. "Are the trains to London really down?" He asked, seeming surprised.

Ginny nodded. "I know. People who commute are going to be screwed ... oh but I guess tomorrow is Sunday. They told me it would be fixed by then. But I don't know..." She shrugged.

Oliver raised his eyebrows but nodded, "I wonder what happened." He said quietly, mostly to himself.

The friends episode ended and another one began and then a fluffy brown cat jumped onto the couch she was half laying on.

"What's its name?"

She sensed that the cats were not Oliver's. "That's Rolex, and the orange nightmare is Mildred." He jerked his thumb towards a cat who was sitting beneath her hanging clothes, its tail moving. It was staring at them now, then one hand stuck up and tried to bat her black cardigan.

Ginny got off the couch and rearranged the clothes, flipping them all around so they would dry evenly. "They're all still soaking," She said sadly. She went back to the couch, seeing Oliver eyeing her curiously. She stretched out and turned sideways, using the armrest as a pillow and the blanket covering most of her body.

After the next episode ended there was a show that was vaguely like Mythbusters, only British with a lot more pretty people. She wondered what Oliver would be doing is she hadn't shown up.

"I hope I didn't ... intrude or anything,"

He shook his head. "No, no. I did have a small event at work. You could ... come with me?"

She was a little surprised, and her heart pounded. "I ... don't have any clothes."

"Right." He nodded quickly. "Perhaps I shouldn't go,"

"No, no! Go ahead, I feel terrible."

He considered this then looked at his phone. She guessed it was almost ten. "Maybe I'll just go round for a moment. You don't mind being alone ... there's nothing ... not much to do. I don't even have Internet at the moment."

Oliver headed upstairs when this was decided and came down wearing jeans and a dark button up with rolled up sleeves. He looked very good. He looked like a mature English boy – which he was. He left with a nod saying he wouldn't be more than half an hour. Then Ginny found herself sitting alone in Oliver's house. Wearing Oliver's clothes. Thinking about Oliver.

She had really thought all this crazy amount of time she thought about boys would have tapered down with her maturity, but it didn't. She found herself upstairs peeking into the second bedroom which did not have a bed in it. He looked into the other and it had a distinctly feminine look to it and didn't have a mattress on the bed and assumed that must be his mothers. Where was his bedroom? There were only three rooms upstairs, three rooms downstairs. He went upstairs to change.

This confused her. She spent time looking at the many photos on the wall. They were mostly of young Oliver. Her favourite was of him standing in the middle of a red teeter-totter with socks up to his knees and holding his muscles up, though covered by a fancy English blazer. There were a few of an older Oliver. He didn't seem particularly happy, or smiling. There were more recent ones. His graduating photo in which he looked like a young version of himself.

She sat on the couch after twenty minutes so he wouldn't know she was snooping. He was back and looked the same as when he left. He went into the kitchen and offered her tea.

"Well, I like an obscene amount of milk and sugar in my tea." she smiled and Oliver did one of his almost-smiles. She got up to take her mug. The shirt he was wearing made her go a little bit crazy. Was he aware of this? Was he aware that dress shirts rolled up and tucked in made girls mad? He must have been. Maybe he was a total ladies man. Maybe this shy, quiet thing was just his _thing_. Maybe he was a total player.

"Me too. But it's not a very British way to drink it, you see, so I always just take sugar."

Ginny smirked, and held up her hands, "I'm not going to judge. Put tons of milk, maybe cream, the whole jar of sugar, maybe some brandy, go crazy." She smiled taking her warm, sweet smelling mug and brushing Oliver's finger for just a moment. This made her get goosebumps, which she also realized would make her almost exposed chest rise just slightly. So she turned away and walked into the living room – or 'lounge' as Oliver called it.

She began to wonder if he really was a ladies man. She could definitely see the appeal, and she was sure he would know how to charm girls if he wanted to ... but there was something about him. It's wasn't that he was shy ... maybe not even that he was quiet. She didn't know what it was. She was suddenly curious about his love life. He'd told her that he didn't have much experience, but she didn't completely believe him. Would it be completely inappropriate to ask him about that? Without even finishing her thought she knew it would be. She would come off as a complete freak.

Why did she even care if he saw her braless? She probably wouldn't see him again, why not be a bit unlike herself. He was, after all, quite handsome, and hospitable – clearly. And trying always to be a gentleman. That was nice.

It was only then that it struck her that the last time they had seen or spoken was when they had had that amazing, weak-in-the-knees kiss. She had kissed this boy, who she would be spending the night at his house, in his clothes ... but it seemed like he wasn't going to bring it up – and neither would she.

"Do you work full time?" She asked and he nodded.

"Seven-thirty to five Tuesday through Saturday." He recited it off like a death sentence.

"Seven-thirty in the morning?" She raised her eyebrows. "Wow ... well at least it's a job." He shrugged and put his phone on the table. "What are you in school for?"

"Guess." He said in a manner that suggested to her he was trying to be social.

"Law? Or business? Or something equally manly and serious?" She tilted her head with a smirk.

Oliver smiled just slightly to himself, "Maybe I should have been. There's not much you can do with a history degree."

Ginny thought for a moment. "You could be a history professor!" She smiled proudly. "_And_ you'd be a good one because everyone would listen because you're good at speaking."

He narrowed his eyes, studying her and looking as though he'd never thought of that before. "I suppose,"

"You suppose?" She repeated, "I just totally figured out the rest of your life for you. You're welcome," She said with a big mischievous grin resting her hand on her chin.

Oliver's eyes looked like they were smiling, even if his mouth was not completely there. "What are you taking?"

"Sociology," She said, "I'm looking forward to it,"

When they both agreed there was nothing they wanted to watch on television, Ginny suggested cards. She knew he knew card tricks and thought he might be more comfortable doing something we was good at, or at least liked.

She scooted forward on the couch, as did he and they brought the table closer. She taught him the violent, high energy game of Spit, they played Gin Rummy which involved too much math for her, then crazy eights, then matching. She felt strangely like a child again. She never took the time to play cards, but they certainly were a way to occupy the time. Surprisingly, Oliver was not as competitive as she was, and while Ginny won almost all of the Spit matches, they were pretty even in their wins and loses.

She had rolled up the short sleeves that went to her elbows and forgotten to be self conscious about her lack of a bra because the shirt was so loose anyway.

It was nearly eleven-thirty when Ginny actually looked at the clock. She wasn't particularly tired, the excitement over the card games seemed to have given her energy.

"I quit smoking," He said after a few moments of silence. This caught her interest.


	3. Sentiments

Hello all! I don't know how to divide my chapters equally ... putting them all in one chapter is intimidating to read. Reviews are love xx

**Disclaimer: **I am not Maureen Johnson, okay?

* * *

><p><em>"I quit smoking," He said after a few moments of silence. This caught her interest.<em>

"Did you?"

"I'm quitting," He corrected as she smirked.

Ginny nodded approvingly, "Well that's an improvement. It's so bad for you,"

It was still pouring hard outside, and she got up to look out the window. The street was shiny in the street lights. It was a non-stop hard rain with bit, fat drops that were never-ending.

"At home," She started saying, "When it would rain, me and my sister would always run outside and spin in it. It doesn't rain a whole lot so when it did it was special, you know?"

She looked at him and he nodded as he gazed at her.

"And in thunderstorms we would always open the garage and sit cross legged and watch. We had a really open park-ish thing in front of our house, and we were near the top end of a hill so we could always see really far."

"You weren't scared?"

She shrugged sitting on the opposite arm that Oliver was next to, but she looked out the window. "Not really. We would try to guess how far away 'the storm' was and count between lightning and thunder. And we'd get a blanket and snuggle. It was nice." She sighed, remembering those days. "Does it storm much here?"

Oliver gave a small shrug, "Not really. Every once and a while. It hardly snows, though. It's mostly just slush."

Ginny smiled. "My uncle lives in Canada and we used to go there on winter holidays because there was always _tons_ of snow. There was almost two metre's one year."

She looked at Oliver who was looking right at her and she felt her heart flutter beneath her nearly bare chest. "What else?"

She slumped her shoulders and made herself more comfortable on the arm, thinking back to beautiful childhood stories she had.

"That same uncle has a cottage, on Lake Superior and there are so many trees. He had this boat dock and tons of land and these big grey rocks we would lay on and try to stay there all night without being scared – I don't think we ever made it through the night."

"That sounds nice," If anyone else had said it like that, she would have assumed they were being sarcastic or mean. But it was something about how socially awkward he was that made it seem so sincere when he said it.

"What about you?"

He took a moment to think. "Whenever I would come home from school my mum would just take me into London. Sometimes to the coast. My dad's brother had a house in the Lake District but I only went once ... it was quite nice from what I remember, though."

"I'm getting kind of tired," She said after a while. Oliver then jumped off the couch as if it was not okay for him to be sitting there.

"Right. I'll just go change the sheets." He gave a firm nod.

Ginny nodded, but when he was half way up the stairs she realized what he said, "Wait ... I'll sleep on the couch," She told him, but he shook his head, opening a skinny door that revealed a cupboard,

"No, no. You're a guest."

She put her hands on her hips. "I'm an unannounced guest that showed up sopping wet, ate your food, whose wearing your nice clean clothes and whose wet clothes are all over your living room. I don't want to be any more trouble,"

He had a small smile and shook his head lightly. "You're not." Ginny was too flustered by the charming look and the fact that he was now pulling a flight of stairs out of the roof to say anything. He obviously noticed her stunned face. "My room," He explained. "It's the only bed in the house at the moment."

"Why isn't your room the other bedroom down here?" She asked looking up at the railing-less wooden staircase that was right next to the other and was just a bit nervous. If she fell, she would fall all the way to the foyer.

She started hesitantly climbing upwards.

"I was a rebellious and demanding child who wanted his room to be special." He shrugged. "And my parents had separate rooms."

Ginny made her way safely to the top and then looked around. The room was quite large with a sloped ceiling and beams supporting it. Clearly this was an attic. She was amazed Oliver could even stand.

It was painted a dull white with a dull blue bed in the centre. The bed was on the floor with two small pillows there was a nearly empty desk in the corner with a closed laptop and a few papers on it, a mini bookshelf on the other side of the hole in the floor that was the door, and there was half a wardrobe next to that. There were a lot of books and a few album covers on the bookshelf, as well as a few fancy-looking model cars (sophisticated ones, not the child-sized plastic ones). There was a little table by his bed with a small antique-looking light and a thick book on it and an iPod dock. There were no pictures on the wall, no pictures anywhere.

"Where's all your stuff?" She asked, "It's so empty." Then she noticed there was a large skylight above his bed and her jaw fell open. "That is so sweet!" she pointed to it. "Can you see the stars?"

He seemed surprised by her enthusiasm, "When it's not cloudy."

That would be the best thing to have in your room, Ginny was suddenly not tired. "I love the stars." She told him as they pulled off the blue comforter and began to strip the bed. It didn't look at all unclean, but she said nothing. "You know," She said pulling the new white sheets over the corners. "I thought your room would be darker." She said. This was a time when she spoke without thinking _at all_.

He gave her a curious look, "Why's that?"

Ginny shrugged and didn't answer. It was because when she imagined the bedroom of a boy who never showed emotion, it was most definitely not white and blue and clean. It was dark and messy with rebellious music posters everywhere and dirty clothes on the floor. She didn't answer him "I don't think you're going to fit on that couch. You'll be all scrunched up."

Oliver smirked a bit but shrugged. "I don't mind."

"You can sleep up here," She told him matter-of-factly, "It is _your_ room." But Oliver shook his head and said nothing as they continued with the sheets. "You can sleep up here with me?" The moment she said it, her heart flipped around. She couldn't get over how free her entire body felt without a bra on. Her heart felt like it was rumbling her whole ribcage. But the statement sounded quite suggestive and she quickly fixed it, "It'll be like we're camping," She pointed to the roof.


	4. First Time Moonshine

Hello all! This chapter is rated M, that is all. Reviews are love xx

**Disclaimer: **I am not Maureen Johnson, okay?

* * *

><p><em> "You can sleep up here with me?" The moment she said it, her heart flipped around. She couldn't get over how free her entire body felt without a bra on. Her heart felt like it was rumbling her whole ribcage. But the statement sounded quite suggestive and she quickly fixed it, "It'll be like we're camping," She pointed to the roof.<em>

Ginny stood in the bathroom with a little bit of minty toothpaste on her finger and began brushing her teeth. She also noticed how tired she looked. She had no make-up on. She had worn a bit more than normal that day, but it had been all washed away. She desperately hoped there was some eyeliner or mascara in her bag.

When she was finished, she went down to grab her bag and check her clothes. They were on the dry-ish side. Except her bra. That was still damp. She readjusted them again and then looked around. Oliver was in the bathroom, as she heard the tap. She grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and then noticed the photo on the wall was of a young Oliver standing on a red see-saw with his arms flexed and a huge, childish smile. He was wearing the uniforms that all children here wore and she smiled.

Then when she was heading to the stairs she stopped. Did she really want to sleep in a bed with him? In theory it would be sweet and nice and something she wouldn't do, but in reality she knew it would be awkward and unsure. She wasn't about to kiss him again ... was she? Is that why she did it? It was just that look that he sometimes had, like he was looking right into her soul and he liked what he saw. But it would be dark. So she couldn't see that look. Would he really sleep in his bed with her? She was now hoping he wouldn't, but she'd made it clear she wanted him to – did she even want him to? Maybe she should get on the couch and go to sleep.

Upstairs she turned off the light and stumbled to the bed where she turned on the bedside light and saw the title of the book on the night stand.

Oliver then came up the stairs wearing long pajama pants and a white shirt. He looked good.

"'The DaVinci Code'?" she looked at him curiously.

"Yeah." He said, unsure as to her complete shock, "What about it?"

"It seems a little ... main stream. And like six years ago."

"Have you read it?"

She shook her head, realising that he was now sitting on the bed next to her. She was leaning against the wall with her knees up. "I saw the movie," She shrugged.

When the lights were out, it had miraculously stopped raining. There were all of a sudden quite a few bright stars above them. Ginny didn't know why, but she got tingles.

"That's amazing," She pointed up, "Isn't it kind of ... bright in the morning, though?"

Oliver shrugged, she could see his outline in the light from the nearly full moon somewhere outside the confines of the large rectangular window. He was laying on his back, tilted just a bit towards her.

"I'm usually awake just before the sun comes up," He sighed. "When are you flying home?"

"Saturday morning." She sighed, staring up, "Are you annoyed that I came here?"

She didn't want to look at him. She imagined his usual, emotionless face. "No. Where else were you supposed to go?"

She agreed. She was glad he said that. She had been on pins and needles wondering what he was thinking about her since they hadn't talked in months and before that knew each other for less than a week. And in that time frame had made-out twice. Ginny didn't make-out with boys. Except Keith and Oliver ... her only romantic-type interactions were with English boys ... she didn't feel like herself over there, that was why.

Ginny didn't know what came over her, or how it happened. But somehow she found herself kissing him. They were both above the covers and it just happened. He was a soft kisser, with a silky tongue and she found her whole body erupting with tingles. What had happened? Why was it this that she constantly found herself thinking about doing?

She had never done this before. She didn't know what she was supposed to be doing. They kissed but they also touched. Ginny felt her hands explore his muscled torso and arms and she let his hands do the same. It was like she was standing on the edge of a mountain about to jump off and sprout wings, there was so much adrenaline. She was on her back and Oliver had gently pushed the bottom of her shirt – his shirt – up to feel her bare stomach. Ginny liked this.

It wasn't long before Oliver had no shirt. She found herself thrilled at the fact that she was touching his bare skin. His chest was not as bony as she imagined it. There were definitely muscles under his soft and mostly hairless chest. Then Ginny was on top. She leaned forward, loving the feeling of his hands on her waist – and of his hands in her hair, holding her cheeks, running down her back.

Ginny had never been completely topless in front of anyone before. But that wasn't on her mind when she pulled off the shirt and Oliver gaped for just a moment. She felt so free and exposed and comfortable and amazing. They rolled over and she was on her back. Oliver kissed straight down from her lips to her bellybutton, his hands lingering on and around her breasts. Ginny's heart was pounding and her skin was tingling. She wasn't thinking about anything, she was just doing anything she could to get the shivers she loved.

When Oliver was on his back, his face seemed more free. He was breathing heavily, just like her, but he also looked relaxed and quite pleased. His cheeks were pink. Her cheeks probably were too, every part of her body was pounding and throbbing. She found her hands lingering on the elastic waist of his boxers. She wanted to be closer, she didn't want this feeling to stop. They breathed a few words to each other now and then; he called her beautiful, she called him handsome. And sexy. It surprised her that this didn't feel at all un-normal. It was comfortable ... it was right.

Sex was not quite what she expected. People always told her it didn't _actually_ hurt, they just said that to scare you. But it did hurt. A lot. Oliver was quite concerned by this, but Ginny wanted to keep going, they had to switch positions so Ginny was on top. There was a bit more awkward shuffling around and trying to avoid eye contact than she had imagined. He held her waist and it was a strange feeling she wouldn't be able to describe if she tried. After the initial pain and bit of blood, she rather enjoyed it. They moved together and were close and she liked it a lot.

It was an extraordinary mix of heat and skin and touch that gave her shivers all over. She didn't care that she was naked, or that he was naked. Or that he was touching her naked body and holding her hips as they rocked together. She found herself making quiet noises that she couldn't control. All she could do was enjoy the incredible feelings she didn't know existed before.

Her limbs did things without her brain thinking. Everything was just happening, and she was enjoying it and letting it happen. She had never felt such an amazing feeling – all sorts of different, wonderful feelings all happening together so quickly.

When it was over she lay on the bed, which had become just a little bit moist beneath her, completely naked. She was breathing hard and didn't care that Oliver was looking. For about five seconds, everything seemed normal. It was not uncomfortable.

But when she had to search the floor for her underwear and realised there was a more than a few drops of blood on his nice clean sheets, she wanted to disappear. But she bravely put her underwear and Oliver's shirt back on, then climbed onto the bed. It was the sheets that were wet, not the comforter, so she pulled that over and lay down. She was suddenly incredibly tired.

All that had just happened was over. It couldn't have taken very long. But her eyes refused to stay open. Oliver was next to her wearing his boxers only after throwing away the condom (that took him a few minutes to find, and also put on – as Ginny watched utterly fascinated). She remembered their bare arms touching as she fell into a very relaxed and peaceful sleep.


	5. Runaway Tears

Hello all! I tried to tap into how Ginny would react to that whole sensitive situation, hopefully I got it right. Reviews are love xx

**Disclaimer: **I am not Maureen Johnson, okay?

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><p><em> All that had just happened was over. It couldn't have taken very long. <em>

Ginny woke up with a sort of tingly, sort of throbbing genital area. It took her a while to realize where she was. She was laying on Oliver's bed. Her shirt was half way up her stomach, and her underwear clad bottom half was covered by a knitted blanket that wasn't there before. Oliver had put it there ... he had seen her asleep like this. It took her even longer to remember what had happened

When everything hit her, her heart flipped in her chest, her stomach was suddenly full of very angry butterflies. She almost started crying. Oliver was not in the bed with her, which was a good thing. What had she done? Why had she done that? She was no longer a virgin! She could never take it back.

Why did she let this happen? How could she have been so irresponsible! Wasn't the first time supposed to mean something, and be special? Not with someone you knew for less than a week, six months ago and hadn't seen in or spoken to in that time, and weren't planning to see ever again. She was so embarrassed and frustrated with herself.

He would have to change these new sheets, which when she pulled back the cover saw a dark rather large stain of her blood. She was so embarrassed. Maybe she should take them off and roll them up? Wouldn't he be completely disgusted ... why did she care?

The panic she had on the inside did not translate to the outside, though. She was just panicked in her mind. She calmly found the shorts she had been wearing, they were on the floor, along with the shirt Oliver had been wearing. Then she noticed that her clothes were sitting on the corner of the bed. Oliver must have brought them up.

She did _not _want to go downstairs. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to have to talk, or explain. She wondered how he would act, would he be flirty? Would he think she was a complete tramp? Would he want her to leave? Would he try to kiss her? Would he be so thrilled and proud of himself? Was this nothing new for him, did he do this often? Did he not care at all and had gotten all he wanted from her? Would he be thinking all these things about her, and act completely like nothing had happened?

Her brain wasn't fully aware of the magnitude of what had happened. It was ten thirty. She walked into the bathroom and stared at herself. She looked bad. She searched her bag and washed her face and put on some mascara and powder. She brushed her teeth with her finger and took a steadying breath, though her mind was racing it didn't help. The sweater she wanted to wear, to cover the body that Oliver had seen all of, was in the living room downstairs. Where he was. Where the boy that had taken her virginity was probably in, and so darn proud of himself. He had sweet talked her, made her feel safe and special. She started to seriously believe he was actually a complete player.

She about to go downstairs when she realised he had seen her completely – completely naked. He'd seen all the parts of her body she hated, he breasts that were just a little small and not quite the same size, her stomach that was not completely flat, her slight muffin top, her jiggly thighs ... her incredibly average body had been on display for him. This had her almost panicked before she realised that _his_ body had been on display for her. However there was nothing wrong with his body; his handsome body that had been _inside_ her. Oh god.

She took a steadying breath before walking down the stairs. She would play it cool. She would act like nothing had happened. That was the easiest thing to do, right? She could live with it if he thought that she did this often and that it was no big deal. She didn't care. It wasn't like they were going to start dating. They wouldn't even see each other again. Did he think they would? Did he just want her to leave? Was this how she was supposed to be feeling? Wasn't she supposed to be happy and adoring and want to kiss him more?

She saw him sitting on the same couch he had been on before reading a book. The television was on mute and playing the news.

Her heart was pounding, and as she stepped into the general area of the living room, he looked up with the smallest smile. Oh god. He never smiled. She didn't smile back.

"Good morning,"

"Morning," She nodded, going straight for her clothes which were now dry. Thank goodness. She scooped them all up and grabbed the hoodie from the couch and hastily made her way back upstairs to the only bathroom.

The exhaled the breath she hadn't realised she was holding. With her clothes on, she suddenly felt more exposed. Her shorts were just a bit too short, and her white shirt was just a bit too low and thin. She put on the hoodie. It felt strange but comfortable to wear it, it smelled so clean. She didn't care that it had been on his skin. It covered her body, except her legs. She didn't want him to look at her and remember. She wanted him to forget.

She sighed. It wasn't that bad ... was it? Was it really such a big deal? She headed downstairs. Oliver was still sitting on the couch, though more upright and on the other side. Ginny tried to not let herself think. It was that bad. She thought she could literally die from embarrassment. She didn't want to over-think it anymore and make it more awkward.

"There isn't much for breakfast," he said when she was at the bottom of the stairs and just stood there. Like a complete idiot. "There's cereal ... or eggs, if you want?"

She shook her head. "It's okay. I'm not really hungry." She nodded then looked out at the window. It was raining. Awesome. "I should go," She said, "I didn't realize I slept so late."

Oliver stood up and nodded, looking the slightest bit unsure. "Okay,"

This silence was killing her. It was not the usual kind of long silence that Oliver was so good at not making awkward. This one was very awkward. So awkward she thought she might burst into tears.

He was kind of staring at her. Why was he looking at her like that? Was she supposed to say something, or do something? How she was not already out the door was beyond her. How could she just be standing here?

"Oh." She remembered the sweater, "Here," She began to pull it off but he shook his head and stuck out his hand,

"No, it's fine. It's a bit chilly." He told her then grabbed a little folded black umbrella and stuck it out, the implication that she was to take it. She felt like she should refuse, but it was raining and she felt like she deserved to take something from him, as he had taken something so important the night before. That was the whole reason she was here in the first place. The stupid rain.

Ginny found her shoes and put them on as quickly as she could. It was clear Oliver was feeling at least somewhat similar to her. He was not acting normal, he was acting unsure, maybe a little embarrassed. His hands were fiddling, and all she could think about was that those hands had been on her hips, holding her and rocking together. All she could think of was steamy images from the night before. And the fact that they had been wrapped around each others naked bodies the night before. She was standing across from the first boy to ever see her naked, and the first boy she had ever seen naked. Every thought got worse and worse. He had seen and touched parts of her that nobody else had. Ever.

And she was making it very clear she didn't want to talk about anything that happened the night before – it didn't occur to her that she could be hurting his feelings, or coming off as a flake, or maybe that he was feeling exactly the same. Maybe he thought she did this all the time ... after all, she had kind of made-out and almost fallen for both of the only English guys she knew. Oh god. He thought she was a tramp. Which he had every right to do, all the evidence _he_ had would lead anyone to believe that she was one. But again, she decided she didn't care.

"Thank-you," She nodded as she unlocked the front door, her hands shaking just a bit, "For letting me stay."

Oliver nodded many times, "No problem. Any time. Enjoy ... the campus tours." He told her as he took a step forward.

She did not want in any way a physical good bye. She nodded with a quick smile. "See you," She said as she opened the door and opened the umbrella.

"Yeah," Oliver said weakly.

It was as she reached the road – six steps from his door – when Ginny found a sob escape her. This was not how it was supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to run away. She was supposed to be happy.

She was crying so quickly, in full view of Oliver's house. Oh god. She desperately hoped he wasn't looking, he probably wasn't. He was probably on the couch reading. She tilted the umbrella so he couldn't see her.

She felt so embarrassed and exposed. She cried the whole way to the station, and barely managed to control her tears when buying the ticket. She wanted the first train to London, which was due to arrive in six minutes.

She was crying quietly now, standing in the sea of people who didn't seem to notice. She didn't want them to notice. How could she have been so ... irresponsible, so reckless? She could have been friends with him ... maybe. They were in a constant state of 'not quite friends, but not quite acquaintances'. They were almost-friends. He could have become her friend, maybe? When she was at university. It would be practical to have someone over here that she already knew.

She was shaking and sad and wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear. When her train arrived she and more than a few other people around her made their way to the platform.

She didn't see Oliver, who had just entered the station doors.

On the busy train, she found a seat across from one other seat, with a tiny half table in the middle. She threw the umbrella on the floor in disgust and pulled her knees to her chest. She stretched the sweater over them and leaned against the uncomfortable window and cried. Her hands covered her face so she didn't have to see the people who sat around her, in the four seats across the aisle.

This train seemed to stop every five seconds, and there were constantly people getting off and on. It was getting fuller as it seemed all these people couldn't get to London yesterday.

She didn't know why she was crying, really. The actual sex part had been really nice. She enjoyed it, she felt good – at the time. Those few moments of absolute pleasure seemed not even worth it ... almost. Aside from all the not-so-smooth tumbling around and the long gap in the middle in which they had stared at the blood coming out of her ... But really, what else was supposed to happen? Was she supposed to curl up with him on the couch and be sweet and kissy? No. That wouldn't have happened purely because it was Oliver. He didn't seem the type to do that. Were they supposed to all of a sudden be a couple? She didn't even want to do that! She didn't even like him that way, did she?

She should never have started it. Why did she, anyway? Why was her brain always thinking about boys!

Her mind was so confused and swirling. She was remembering what happened, and it felt dirty. She knew it shouldn't, but it did. She tried to look at it objectively, how she must have come off to him, and what in the world she was thinking. She had been the one who invited him to sleep in the bed with her! He was a man in his early twenties, what the hell did she expect to happen? Thinking back to it ... she didn't want to think anymore.

When she put her knees down there was a plump woman in a plum coloured skirt suit with a flower in her hair sitting across from her. In the four seats there were two tourist-y looking young men looking at her as discreetly as they could – she didn't need anybody looking at her. Especially boys.

"Y'alright, dear?" The woman asked with a strong but kind accent.

Ginny wanted to yell 'Clearly I'm not. Can't you tell? Do people _normally_ cry uncontrollably when they are okay?' but she didn't. She nodded, sniffling and wiping her stinging eyes. "I'm fine."

Then her cell phone began to buzz. She got it out of her bag and checked the number. It didn't look like a phone number, like all British phone numbers didn't, but she knew it was Richard.

"Hello?" She said quietly and trying to sound like she wasn't crying.

"Hi Gin, are you crying?" Richard asked, sounding quite concerned.

"No ... I've just been ... sneezing." She didn't know why she lied. He was going to see her horrible-looking face when she got back anyway. "I'm on the train now."

"Oh good. I was a bit concerned. You're morning's been alright?"

"Yep," she lied again.

"Good. I wanted to let you know won't be home when you get here. Just going out for lunch, but I thought I should tell you."

Ginny found herself smiling. She nodded, "Okay. Have fun."

She stared out the window at the grey sky and wet houses for at least two hours. The woman got off and was replaced by a young woman, maybe five years older than her, who was dressed stylishly and was not crying like a baby. She didn't even bat an eye at how horrible Ginny must have looked, instead she gave a small sympathetic smile and opened a little laptop on the table.

All these people on the train ... they didn't know that she had had sex for the first time last night. Maybe one of them had too. Maybe all of them had had sex last night. Maybe it was just a normal thing that she was making way too big a deal out of. Of course sex was normal. Humanity wouldn't have lasted if it wasn't.

Maybe Oliver was sitting in his house thinking how much of a baby she was. What kind of girl ran out like that? She didn't care what he was thinking, quite honestly. She sort of never wanted to see him again.

When the train finally got to London, nearly everyone got off. Ginny was at Richards soon enough and immediately headed to her bedroom and started sobbing. She didn't know why she was so upset ... sex was supposed to make you feel good, wasn't it? It felt good at the time ... it felt so good. And yes, she probably would never see or speak to him again. That was fine. But she just felt ... dirty. And used. And sad.

She stayed in her bed until Richard came home. He called for her, but she decided she wanted to be asleep. So she pretended. He knocked on her room door and then opened it. She was facing away from the door with her eyes shut. And then he shut the door. Ginny flipped onto her back and stared at the collaged ceiling.

She found herself wondering if Richard and Aunt Peg had had sex. It was a strange and personal and private and intimate thing to actually think about, and was a little shocked that her mind had wandered to that. And Ginny knew they must have. They were married. Richard _loved_ her. But then Aunt Peg had run away, and when she came back she was sick ... maybe they hadn't. But if they had, it would have gone better than her and Oliver. Clearly.

After a while it was soon dinner time. She had fallen asleep. She was starving, but she didn't really want to eat. She wanted to stay in her dark room and wallow.

She put on sweatpants and her own baggy sweater. She didn't even want Richard to see her. She pulled her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head and came down the stairs to see him typing away on his laptop.

He looked up at her and tried to smile, "Morning?" He said with a grin.

She shrugged. "I don't know why I'm so tired," and went to the fridge to find something to eat. She didn't want to eat anything. So she poured herself some Ribena – with water – and sat at the table. Richard had a bowl of noodles and meat that looked like left over's.

"Did you want some? It's really good."

She shook her head. "No thanks. I'm not really hungry."

He eyed her curiously. "So. Your first tour's tomorrow, right?"

"Right. Greenwich at ten thirty."

"Greenwich. It's a lovely school. And when is the other one?"

"Wednesday, at University of Surrey." And she groaned. Maybe she just wouldn't go to that one. She didn't want to be near Guildford.

"Isn't Guildford near there? Did you see it at all when you were there?" Richard seemed to be asking questions like he was suspicious. Maybe she should have tried to look better, not make her sadness so obvious.

She shook her head, "No ..."

Then Richard turned to her and looked right at her, "Are you alright?" She found herself scrunching her face, holding back tears. That question sounded so honest and it made her want to cry. She covered her eyes with her hand and looked down. "What happened?"

Ginny shook her head, "No. Nothing. I don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry," She couldn't bare to look at him. but she had to, holding back tears.

"Okay." Richard said calmly as she stood up, pouring most of her juice down the sink. "Well I'm always here if you do."

Ginny was warmed at how kind that was. But she would most definitely not be talking to him about this. She nodded as Richard gave her a small hug from the chair – she didn't want to be hugged or even touched by anyone – and then she went up to her dark room and forced herself to go to sleep.


	6. Reality

Hello all! I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. It's not terrible thrilling, but I feel it's important. Reviews are love xx

**Disclaimer: **I am not Maureen Johnson, okay?

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><p><em>She didn't want to be hugged or even touched by anyone – and then she went up to her dark room and forced herself to go to sleep.<em>

Greenwich University was very nice. It was raining, of course, but it was big and old buildings. There were five other international students with her, mostly from Europe, one from Asia. They seemed nice. She spent three hours there, talking with advisors and going over courses. It was hard for her to be excited when she was still so sad – for no good reason. She was far too dramatic. Everybody has a first time. It's never perfect, and usually not very 'good' ... she needed to get over it. Right?

She rode the tube home, it was a long ride, but only one change, to Richards. She sat there with her legs crossed. She was wearing loose jeans and a sweater that was a bit baggy. She wanted to hide her body as much as possible. She didn't look like someone from London, but she didn't look quite like a tourist either. She had a binder on her lap, filled with information on the university and notes. She didn't want anyone to notice her. She watched as a couple got on, holding hands lovingly. The boy held her waist as they stood.

This made her start to cry. It was quiet, a few tears dripped out of her eyes as she avoided the looks of other travellers. Most people on the tube, the Londoners, didn't look around. They sat reading the paper, or a book or staring out the windows at the black. But some people did. She always looked around.

And she was looking around when she saw Keith getting on.

She wanted to disappear.

"Mad one?" He said, bounding over to her, in the middle of the car. He was sort of the only one speaking, and she was sure that people would be nonchalantly listening to their conversation. "Bloody hell! How have you been?" Keith was in a remarkably good mood, considering their last actual conversation. They had talked over the internet as friends mostly since then. "And why do you always show up out of nowhere?"

Ginny smiled, "I'm alright," She said, he looked much the same as before, still student-like and free. "What are you doing in this part of the city?" As he had gotten on at a stop called Bermondsey, not exactly near anything particular.

"Audition," he said proudly, "And it's almost a main roll, too. You look like a responsible student," He pointed to the binder as the train turned a long corner and he kind of leaned over her.

She nodded, "Greenwich."

"Oh that's right! You got in, then?"

"Yep. I was just on a tour,"

"Well we must go celebrate!" he said passionately.

They stayed on the tube, past her stop and all the way to Camden Town, where lots of bars and students hung out. She didn't really want to spend time with Keith. At least not right now. She couldn't very well explain to him _why_, either.

But Ginny sucked it up and pretended to enjoy herself. It wasn't totally awful. They went to a little cafe and she just got a muffin, of which she only ate half. Keith told her all about what he had been up to, and that he was very sad it was his last year of school.

"I won't be a 'student' anymore, you see. Students can get away with loads of things."

"You could always go back ... take another course."

Then he held up his fingers and rubbed them together. "I don't exactly have the funds. I most definitely would, though. I think I'd like to be a professional student."

Oliver didn't come up even once and she was more than pleased about that. "Were you planning on telling me you were here?" He asked as they left.

"Of course! I don't have anymore envelopes this time, though. No instructions, no crazy tasks to perform."

Keith grinned. They talked for a while, he said he was glad she was here and that they would have to go out and really celebrate. But staying away from 'the bloody tourists'.

Ginny got home and was exhausted. Probably because she hadn't eaten in two days. She didn't know why she hadn't. She just didn't want to. That's what happened when she was sad about something.

The days went by, Ellis sent her a very excited email saying that this Friday they must go out. And that she had a favourite new bar that Ginny just had to experience. Maybe she could talk to Ellis about this, though she couldn't really imagine her being serious, or empathetic. Or without Keith.

She needed her friends. The friends who had been friends with her all through high school, who gossiped with her and who were always there. Maybe she should tell them? Maybe telling them over the internet seemed so nonchalant, like it wasn't a huge deal ... maybe that's what she needed.


	7. The Englishman

Hello all! Last chapter. Except it's not. I have a very detailed map of how the next fifteen or so years of Ginny's life turn out. It's mostly in drabbles and scenes, not actually in story format, but my bias aside, it could be the next 'The Notebook' ;)

ANYWAY, probably one of my more favourable chapters, it's a sweet interaction between the two. Reviews are love xx

**Disclaimer: **I am not Maureen Johnson, okay?

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><p><em>Maybe she should tell them? Maybe telling them over the internet seemed so nonchalant, like it wasn't a huge deal ... maybe that's what she needed.<em>

Ginny sat on Richard's couch staring aimlessly at the television. He had come home almost an hour ago from somewhere other than work. She was happy for him, usually he worked non stop and then spent the rest of his time at home.

She was not paying attention to anything. She wanted to go into her room and sleep. And maybe cry. She didn't even hear the doorbell.

"Ginny," Richard said loudly from right next to her, obviously this was not the first time he'd said her name. She looked at him too exhausted from thinking to be embarrassed. "Someone named Oliver is at the door for you."

"What?" her entire body sunk. "Tell him I'm not here. Tell him I'm sleeping ... or in the shower!"Richard tilted his head, looking more than surprised, and like it was plainly obvious he wasn't going to do any of that. She shook her head, "I don't want to talk to him." She begged, "Please."

What the hell was he doing here? She groaned then stood up and straightened herself out. She didn't want to talk to him. She was wearing pajama bottoms and a thin light blue long sleeved tee. It was eight o'clock on Friday. She was leaving tomorrow, she had to get up at five. She went to the door as Richard seemed to reluctantly go upstairs. She would have to have a good explanation as to why strange boys seemed to all know where his house was.

She opened the door after taking a breath. She was clearly over-emotional. He had no way of knowing that she'd spent the last four days moping and sulking over her stupid feelings. Oliver stood wearing his jacket and the nice-looking clothes he always had on. Just looking at him made her remember everything. His hands were behind him, no doubt fiddling, and they had been all over her. They'd touched parts of her body that nobody else _in the world _had even seen. His most private part had touched hers, he'd been inside her! This was all too real. She said nothing, only raised her eyebrows, intentionally looking not very happy to see him. He was going to do the talking.

"Hello." He nodded, and Ginny gave a half-hearted thoroughly forced almost-smile. "I'm sorry ... to bother you." He sort of announced then took a breath. Even with the stoop slightly lower than the house, he was still taller than her. "Would you ... mind going for a walk?"

"I can't."

Oliver nodded, thinking to himself. "I wanted to apologize." He said, looking right at her. "I saw you were upset when you left, and I didn't mean ... I shouldn't have—" He shook his head slightly, looking down "I was doing everything not to ..." Oliver dared to look up at her, "I don't want you to be upset." He paused, "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." He swallowed and knitted his brows together, looking like he was trying not to show emotion.

Ginny felt tears almost poking at her eyes, she didn't look at him, but nodded. It was to his credit that he seemed to actually feel bad. That he didn't she sleep with her and avoid her – like she was doing to him. But she was _allowed _to. _She_ had been the virgin.

"Why are you apologizing? It was my fault. I started it," She rolled her eyes to stop the tears. They stood for a few moments in silence. It wasn't like they were best friends before ... they were almost friends, who occasionally made out.

Oliver tilted his head down, but looked up at her with warm eyes, "Well I didn't really try to stop it, did I?" He made a good point. "I don't ... do that a lot – and I didn't realise you'd never ..." He trailed off and shook his head. "I wasn't ..." He gave his head a small shake, hanging his head. "Anyway," He looked down, then up at her with some sort of assured gaze.

Ginny didn't know what to say. She didn't want to be standing here. It was nice of him to not just avoid her, she supposed, it was _really_ nice to know he wasn't just using her. But she still felt herself becoming a bit annoyed rather than sad. Why did he think he could come here and drag this out? Did he think things would all of a sudden be better and they would start dating or something ridiculous? Not even dating, just be friends. She wanted to forget about it.

"I think you should go," She said quietly, her eyes watery with tears but she looked straight at him.

He looked away from her with a small nod, "Right." She stood there with her arms folded across her chest, and her heart beating steadily. She could tell he was thinking hard, and that he wanted to say something else. "Maybe when you're at school here we could catch-up ... or something?

Ginny was surprised, but she didn't show it. Oliver seemed to be trying very hard not to let another six months of no communication happen again.

She gave a small, non-committal shrug, "Maybe."

He took a composed breath, looked up at her and with a whisper said, "Please don't hate me,"

Her heart skipped a beat. How was he so nice about this? How was he being such a good guy? He was supposed to be awful! If he were awful, her annoyed and upset feelings would have reason. She felt her eyes blink tears now and gave her head a small shake, avoiding his eyes.

Ginny didn't want to get more emotional, she was thinking way too much about this. She found herself nodding slightly. Oliver looked down and nodded. There was a lot of just nodding going on.

"Well ... have a good summer," He said to her earnestly.

She tried to smile, "You too,"

She leaned against the door frame as he walked down the steps. She didn't want to watch him walk away, so she went inside, holding back tears. Richard walked in from the living room looking sympathetic and she found herself collapsing into his chest in tears.

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><p>I don't want to end it here! There is so much more that goes on!<p> 


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